


Hungry Eyes

by Twisted_Barbie



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:20:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13348788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Barbie/pseuds/Twisted_Barbie
Summary: Series 2 Episode 9Arthur threatened Merlin after finding him beneath his bed and believing he had been there the whole time. It was an empty threat but it plagued Merlin’s thoughts so much so he took it upon himself to find out what had the prince so unnerved. PWP.





	Hungry Eyes

Merlin raised his hand to knock on the door and paused in consideration. It was a terrible idea, half baked and ill-advised and if caught his punishment at best would be an afternoon in the stocks and at worst a night in a cell. 

He knocked on the door. Self-preservation had never been high on his list of priorities and this quest of his held importance if only to himself. 

“Arthur?” He called after receiving no reply. He knocked again while trying the door and finding it unlocked he pushed it open and poked his head through the gap. “Arthur?” He asked once again and scanned the room. The curtains had been drawn and the candelabras were lit and a healthy fire burned casting a flickering orange glow upon the vacant bed. 

It was not too late, there was still time to turn back and put this escapade to the back of his mind where it truly belonged. He entered the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click while a litany of curses filtered through his mind. Dismissive of his own folly, he rushed across the room towards the bed and crawled beneath it to lie upon the spare pillows that were kept there. 

All he could do now was wait, trapped within the same purgatory Arthur had cast him into a week prior with one threat. It was misspoken and empty but the words haunted him and robbed him of sleep. His work had suffered for it as well as his mood. It was like an itch he could not scratch. Arthur usually got under his skin but never in this way and never by saying so very little. A bitten off threat, a response to fill the silence and save face, he was tearing himself apart over nothing. 

Yet if it were nothing why did Arthur speak those words? Why threaten him for taking refuge beneath his bed? What might he have witnessed that had Arthur so scandalised by the thought of it? He could have been reacting to the invasion of privacy. Perhaps he had mistaken him for a voyeur, men of his age had needs and he would certainly react the same if someone was beneath his bed while he took himself in hand. Though it did not explain the look in his eyes.

Fear.

A look he would never associate with Arthur Pendragon. It was the look of a deer at the end of a crossbow, hopeless and trapped but the fight had not left Arthur given his threat. It was that look that haunted his dreams, flashing in his mind each time he closed his eyes and robbed him of peace. 

Maybe this quest was self-preservation because he could not continue with his mind asunder, something had to give. If it were as simple as asking he would in a heartbeat but Arthur owed him no explanation and would not give him one even if it were due. Instead his quest had become secretive, one to be carried out in the shadows and unspoken of upon it’s completion. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the opening of the door. He turns his head to look but otherwise remains still, rigid, his breath even but shallow in his panic. It’s Arthur, he knows those brown leather boots, as he had scrubbed them often enough. The door is then shut but not locked, and Arthur walks towards the bed before stopping abruptly and his breath catches in his throat. Arthur is a tracker; his intuition must have given his location away and truly it’s for the best. He’ll tell him he was looking for mice and be done with this hairbrained scheme of his. 

Nothing happens from one breath to the next and the uncertainty of the situation settles like a deadweight upon his chest. Finally, he hears the whisper of fabric and watches Arthur’s crimson shirt drop to the floor to pool beside his left boot. He won’t bend down to pick it up and for once he is grateful for the prince’s idleness. Arthur kicks his boots off next without thought as to where they land and he rolls his eyes so hard his head begins to hurt as he mentally lists his chores for the morrow. 

It occurs to him that he hasn’t turned down the bed, and because of this the prince dives onto it and he imagines crawls up as he is no longer within his line of vision and the bedframe groans beneath the shifting weight. The frame shifts slightly to the left as Arthur tussles with his covers and he brings his arms up to protect his chest should the frame falter beneath the prince’ erratic movements. 

Hearing a triumphant huff of breath, he can only assume Arthur has made it beneath the quilt but it is a few moments more before the restless shifting stops and quiet falls over the room. He remains stock still beneath the bed, tendons stretched and muscles aching from the rigidity of his body but he cannot afford to relax. 

He waits. 

Chest tight and limbs stiff, he waits. 

Seconds bleed into minutes and each minute is stretched into an hour. In boredom, he stares into the fireplace and watches the orange flames swirl around the logs in an enchanting hypnotic dance. His eyes feel heavy as the heat from the fire lulls him and he succumbs to temptation and lays his head back and allows his body to relax surrounded by the fire’s comforting warm embrace as his eyes begin to close. 

The sudden groan of the bedframe is jarring and he comes back to himself, blinking rapidly at the shifting boards above him as Arthur tosses and turns. This must be it, he decides, Arthur is as petulant asleep as he is awake. It is hardly worth threatening him over, unless of course his troubled sleep is the result of night terrors. 

He turns his head to the right and looks out towards the silver framed mirror and swallows the noise of disappointment as it is tilted too far back giving him a view of the ceiling and no more. He bites his lower lip in thought. It was dangerous to use magic so close to the prince and damn right foolish when he did not know which way the prince was turned and what he might see. 

…But if he were struggling- if he had succumbed to some affliction of the mind, then it was his duty to serve the prince no matter the cost. 

With a single thought, he looks towards the mirror and feels the rush of magic coursing through his veins. Slowly the mirror leans forward on its frame with indiscernible movements revealing the oak framed bed with thick red velvet curtains tied to each post. There the blond prince lays still with the bed covers kicked to the foot of the bed.

He lies on the right side, pale skin shining golden as the flickering light from the flames dance along the contours of his sweat-slick body. His right arm is extended above his head obscuring his face from his view while his left-hand rests over his heart, fingers splayed and twitching to the erratic beating. As still as he is he is not asleep as his left leg is elevated, foot flat on the mattress and bent at the knee while his right leg lay extended. 

Arthur emits a long-suffering sigh and Merlin watches attentively as Arthur’s left hand begins to move downwards between the valley of his ribs and over the ridges of his tight abdominals. His fingers toy with the coarse hair that trails from his navel to his groin and though his hand has stopped, Merlin’s eyes continue along to the tented breeches housing a yearning member and he quickly turns away. 

This was not for him to see. His cheeks burn but he blames it on the heat of the fire, the same heat that had reduced the golden prince to a perspiring wanton mess laid indecently above him. He stifled a sound with the back of his hand unwilling to identify what the noise was, as the prince gave into his baser instincts and each satisfied breath that fell from the prince’s pale pink lips made his stomach flutter and loins tighten. 

He crosses his legs tightly unwilling to reward his body for bad behaviour as he turned his head once more. He could not stop himself, enamoured as he was, like a moth to a flame, each sigh of pleasure a siren to his soul. Arthur had unlaced his brown breeches and had pushed them low down his hips but his need had clearly become too strong to discard them as his left hand was beneath the material rubbing his hardened cock. 

His face was still obscured but Merlin could imagine his mop of blond locks damp and falling before cerulean eyes. His pale cheeks would be flush red with arousal and his full lips would be wet and parted, tempting and sweet. He presses a finger against his own lips in recompense and drags the pad of his finger across his dry chapped lower lip. His tongue follows moments later mimicking the journey and wetting his lip in a prelude to a kiss he would not receive. 

He shakes his head to clear it of such depressing thoughts and finds the creaking of the bed a welcomed distraction. He turns his gaze to the mirror once more and a rush of heat flows through his body, drying his mouth and throat and setting low in his belly. In his musing, Arthur had raised his right foot as his hand quickened along his shaft and his hips slowly rose from the mattress revealing the curve of his buttocks from his low-slung breeches to his hungry eyes. 

The growing pressure between his thighs becomes insistent and his fingers itch to take himself in hand but he denies himself the stimulation. Instead he focuses on Arthur’s trembling thighs and watches as a tell-tale sign of his pleasure stains the front of his breeches. With a frustrated groan, Arthur sits up and pushes his breeches down and off, casting them to the left side of the bed.

Merlin’s breath catches in his throat as he stares at Arthur’s arousal as the prince flings himself back onto the bed once more. He had witnessed his master’s cock flaccid on many occasions but seeing the long slender cock stiff and flushed an angry red with a drop of pre-cum crowning the sensitive head is his undoing. He uncrosses his legs and presses a hand against his own stiff cock confined in his trousers. 

He watches as Arthur takes his cock into his left hand once more while bringing his right hand up to his mouth and presses two fingers inside the hot cavern. Merlin stuffs his red neckerchief into his mouth to stifle his moans of pleasure as he imagines his cock between those sinful lips in the fingers stead. Arthur looks debauched sucking on two fingers with flushed hollowed cheeks and blue eyes turned navy in their lust. He wants to press his own fingers into Arthur’s mouth and feel his wicked tongue toy with them as he licked at the hollow of his cheeks and pressed kisses against his strong jaw. 

He stuffs his hand down his trousers and imitates Arthur’s touch. He’s too far gone to consider his impropriety and when Arthur’s fingers leave his mouth to toy with a dusky nipple he no longer cares. 

He can faintly taste soap from his neckerchief in his mouth but he does not remove it as it smothers his cries of pleasure as he slowly strokes himself while watching Arthur in the mirror with hungry eyes devouring the sight of him writhing on the bed. His small nipples are hardened by his own touch and glisten from his own saliva and he watches his right-hand drift lower to caress his drawn-up sac before moving lower still. His mouth waters despite the material in his mouth and he jerks his cock faster watching the prince debase himself in the most shameful of ways. 

He mentally reprimands himself. It wasn’t shameful it was delicious- a feast for the eyes and senses. A private showing of ecstasy found in vulnerability that only he was privy to. It occurs to him then that Arthur would never do this if he were aware that he was there and the knowledge douses the flames of his passion like a bucket of cold water over an open flame. 

He blinks the sweat from his eyes and runs his fingers through his sodden hair feeling like a thief in the night. He glares at the mirror and at the golden body he hungers for but could never taste. He doesn’t know when he allowed himself to become so starved, desperate for any attention the golden prince might gift him. 

He looks his fill, from the prince’s widespread legs to the twitching muscle in his right thigh, from his heaving chest to his parted wet lips. He looks like a fallen angel spread out on the crimson sheet with his hair fanned out on the pillow like a golden halo, beautifully depraved and sinfully sensual. His body writhes erotically on the bed caressed by the firelight and as his hips gently rise and his right leg shifts he watches as a second finger works its way into his hidden opening. The ease of the penetration suggested this was not an uncommon act and he was unsure how he felt about that but he knew instinctively that Arthur had caused in him a hunger that could never be satisfied. 

He watches and he longs, his hand still on his penis but his erection never waning as Arthur bucks into his own fist and tosses his head back and forth in denial of his own insurmountable pleasure. Pale pink lips are bitten cherry red as his hips rise further from the mattress and his fingers sink deeper inside himself. 

“Merlin!” Arthur cries with abandon releasing his cock and grasping blindly to the left of himself. Merlin’s jaw drops in astonishment and his heart pounds in his chest as his name continues to fall from Arthur’s lips like a mantra- like a prayer- as Arthur presses his bunched-up breeches against his groin and spills himself against the cloth. 

Merlin continues to watch, deafened by the rush of blood in his ears and when he is sure there is no more to see, he drops his head back and closes his eyes while dragging his hand down his sweaty blushing face. 

“You can go now.” His heart freezes in his chest as he hears the soft voice from above him. He drops the hand from his face and mustering the courage, he turns his head to the right to look into the mirror once more. Navy eyes meet azure as Arthur is laid on his right side, head propped up on his right hand and ruined breeches covering his modesty. His hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed but there is amusement dancing in his eyes and a smile adorning his bitten red lips. 

For a moment Merlin is struck dumb convinced he had mistaken a dream for reality. Why did he not realise if he were able to see Arthur, Arthur was equally capable to see him to? By revealing one location he had given away another and how must he look laid beneath the prince’s bed gagged by his own neckerchief with his hand stuffed down his trousers? 

Despite all his worries, Arthur seems unperturbed and charmingly winks his left eye. His orgasm hits with blinding intensity and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment as his hand had remained still and yet he had reached completion from a knowing wink. He can’t bring himself to look into the mirror as he pulls his hand from his trousers and wipes his release on his inner thigh of the soiled material. He pulls the neckerchief from his mouth and ignores the dampness against his neck as he crawls from beneath the bed, his back to the prince. 

“Merlin?” Arthur questions softly and he turns and is immediately struck in the face by Arthur’s soiled breeches. “Clean those will you.” There’s a moment’s pause as the prince’s musk invades his nostrils and then the prince laughs, honest and openly and despite the blush staining his cheeks he joins in the merriment. 

“Seriously though, get out.” Arthur sobers and dismisses him and he ducks his head. 

“Yes,” he agrees loping towards the door, eyes on the prince in all his naked splendour. 

He leaves the room and shuts the door before falling against it. His head is spinning and his heart is racing but despite everything he shakes his head and laughs at the situation and he can hear Arthur echoing his laughter. 

He’d been had.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a one-shot, my hello to the fandom. I hope to see you again shortly.


End file.
